


Croissant?

by organizedrebel



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chocolate, Comfort, Company, F/M, Fluff, How Do I Tag, I for one hate valentine's day, Old Movies, Valentine's Day, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organizedrebel/pseuds/organizedrebel
Summary: You? Alone on Valentine's Day? ... Not actually that unusual. You've grown rather desensitized to the whole thing, with the hearts and the cards and the bouquets. This year it's just hitting a little harder than usual.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	Croissant?

Valentine’s Day had never bothered you before. 

Why should it? It was a day for couples and those in relationships to show their appreciation and devotion to the other or others in question, and it was good to see that much love and caring on what was often a gray day in the middle of February. 

You’d spent it with someone a couple of years out of your life, but not many. More often than not, you spent Valentine’s Day alone, and that suited you just fine. 

This year seemed to be the exception to the rule. 

Three times now today you’d almost reached out to one of your friends, offering to meet them for lunch, or grabbing a drink that evening, or meeting up for movie night in the last case… and then remembered that the person you were reaching out to had a significant other who they probably wanted to pay attention to. So you stopped yourself before even sending the text. 

It wasn’t often you felt lonely. Normally you didn’t have _time_ to feel lonely between work, errands, something that could vaguely be referred to as a social life, and looking after your own hunger and hygiene. But this afternoon, you felt lonely. 

The sun was sinking ever-lower behind your apartment building, and you had braved the red-and-pink-themed grocery store across the street for the last bottle of wine on the shelf, some chocolate (the most convenient box happened to be in a pink heart shape, naturally), and a cheap candle that smelled like cinnamon. It was a fight to get to the actual line by the conveyor belt, but you managed and got back home without incident. 

It got dark early this time of year, but by the time the sun sank beneath the horizon, you were tucked up on your couch with the bottle, the chocolate, and a wine glass sitting on your coffee table. You’d chosen to go with a DVD from your shelf this evening. Every channel you could think of (and most streaming services) were blasting romances and chick flicks and… honestly, you were pretty sick of it. 

You didn’t begrudge much of the population their loved ones. They had every right to be happy with the person (or in some cases, people) of their choice. You weren’t _angry,_ you weren’t upset. But you were sad. 

Leaning forward to pour yourself a glass of wine as the opening credits rolled, you habitually glanced at your phone, freezing at the text notification. Who would bother texting someone they weren’t in a relationship with on Valentine’s Day? You gave in to curiosity, setting the bottle down in favor of lifting your phone from the coffee table. 

_Can I come over_

You hid a relieved smile, tapping out a quick reply. Looked like someone finally got the hang of texting on smartphones. 

Also, looked like you might not be completely alone this evening. 

_Yeah, of course. If you want anything to snack on, bring it with you._

The response took a minute. _Be there in five_

You frowned at it, then shrugged. Bucky had a way of getting from place to place with terrifying speed. He’d never shared his secrets with you, but to be fair, you’d never asked. Somehow it never really seemed to _matter_ between the two of you. 

Upon filling your glass like you’d been meaning to for a minute now, you settled back into the couch cushions with a soft smile, not really paying close attention to the antics of the Dick Van Dyke Show. You had a few episodes on DVD that you received as a gift a couple of years ago, and it never failed to amuse you. That had been the idea when you put it on, anyway. 

Almost on the dot, five minutes later there was a quiet knock at your door. It wasn’t a soft knock, or a hesitant knock-- just quiet. Unobtrusive but serious. You rose and crossed the room to the door, peeking through the peephole anyway before opening it with a smile. 

“Hey, Bucky,” you hummed, putting on a small grin just for him. “How’re you feeling today?” 

He just grunted, sliding by you when you shifted so you could close the door behind him. He wore a well-worn leather jacket with both of his hands jammed deep in his pockets, but his hair was tied back today. He’d washed it recently too, if the look was anything to go by, which was good. He was taking better care of himself. 

“Yeah, I’m much the same,” you said, not making much of a deal over his lack of a response. You were hardly the person to judge him on that. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught him staring at the wine and chocolate box on your coffee table. 

“Busy?” 

His concise question caught you a little off guard, and you widened your smile a little bit, determined to not appear ‘off’ in front of him. He was checking to see if he was interrupting anything, if anyone else was here. It was a reasonable response for him, you thought. “Nah, those are mine, I picked them up.” 

He nodded once, seemingly satisfied with your explanation, but his eyebrows were still pulled together in an almost-frown. “... Why aren’t you busy tonight?” 

You chuckled, gesturing to the television and fluffy blanket on the couch, which you returned to as you said, “These _are_ my plans. What, did you expect me to be out partying--” 

“Drop it.” 

You blinked at the interruption, smile flickering. Was he not in a good mood this evening? What if you were talking too much? “Drop what..?” 

He huffed, sinking down on the other end of the couch and rubbing a gloved hand over his jaw. “The act.” 

You didn’t want to parrot him, but you did want an explanation. “I’m not acting, Bucky, I’m actually happy to see you--” 

“Yeah. But you’re not _happy._ ” His eyes swiveled to you, stern and unflinching. 

Silence filled the room for a few moments, and the paused comedy show on the television cast an eerie glow through the dimmed room. Finally, you dropped your gaze. You didn’t want to admit that he was right. Nights like these just _happened_ sometimes for you, where the day slowed down a little too much and sleep fixed the Nighttime Sads. The fact that it happened on Valentine’s Day just was the cherry on top this evening.

“... I _am_ happy to see you,” you said softly, “But… yeah. I guess.” The admission was hard. You didn’t want to appear weak before him. He was the last person you could think of who would forgive a moment of weakness. “... I… I thought about reaching out to some friends, earlier today. They’re all busy.” You exhaled once in a laugh that had no humor in it. “It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I don’t want to pull them from their partners.” 

Which brought to mind another question. “... What are _you_ doing here..? Surely there’s someone else you’d rather be spending the evening with?” you ventured. You couldn’t be the only reason he came over here, except… well, that was the only thing that made sense, wasn’t it? 

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder, returning his gaze to the motionless television screen. “Steve’s busy,” he said, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did. Steve was probably entertaining his blind date that Sam had set up. You were happy for him, he needed someone else in his spectacularly small social circle, but… that left Bucky at loose ends. And if you knew Bucky as well as you thought you did, he wouldn’t let Steve know he wanted company. Especially not if Steve had made any kind of plans. 

You hummed an acknowledgment, shifting so that you could lean your shoulder up against Bucky’s right, reaching out to press play on the remote and picking up your glass again. You weren’t one to judge. Sometimes a little company was nice, and there didn’t even need to be talking involved. Normally you remembered that around him. 

You were just… a little out-of-sorts tonight. 

And that was okay. Because as long as you weren’t feeding him a false smile, Bucky wasn’t one to judge you, either. 

Sometime in the next episode Bucky reached around you, plucking the wine glass out of your hand and taking a slow sip of it before handing it back. This was (more or less) a normal night in for you. Sometimes Bucky came over with no warning-- most of the time he asked first. After reminding him over several visits that yes, the snacks you had on the coffee table for a movie or the apples, tangerines, or plums in the bowl on the kitchen counter _were_ free for the taking, this had become a regular occurrence. 

To you, it meant he was comfortable around you. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything. You valued his company, more than you did that of many people you spent time with. With Bucky, there was no pressure to talk. You could sit with him, in relative quiet, and not be thinking about what was on the television at all, and be happy. 

And slowly, so slowly you almost didn’t notice it, the deep-down happiness that came from spending time with someone you valued started to sink in, and it became a warm little glow. 

“I… don’t know if I’m your first choice for company,” you began after a while, in a soft voice he would still be able to hear, “But thank you for coming over. I appreciate it.” 

He hummed in response. It wasn’t an abrupt, huff sort of a hum, nor was it a grunt-- it was a gentler, acknowledging hum. And coming from him, you knew he had listened, and you tipped your head sideways against his shoulder as the last episode on the disc started, just soaking up the comfort Bucky’s company brought you. 

When _that_ one ended, you pushed yourself upright with a soft groan, fighting the side of your brain that was telling you, ‘hey, fall asleep here, it’s okay’ because you really didn’t want to fall asleep on Bucky. He probably wouldn’t appreciate being more or less trapped. And just maybe, you didn’t want to know he didn’t think twice about waking you up if he had to move. 

And you quietly decided you weren’t going to think about that, or what it would mean to you if he _did_ think twice. 

“Want some more?” you offered, waving the half-empty wine bottle. A quiet nod from him decided the issue, and you poured your next glass a little fuller than you normally might. After all, you weren’t going to insinuate that you weren’t okay with sharing a glass by offering him his own. If Bucky wanted his own glass, he would ask for one, or just get up and get it. He was over here often enough that he’d done so several times when he wanted something different than what you were drinking. 

“Got a preference on what else to watch?” you asked, gesturing to your short DVD case. 

Bucky’s head tilted slightly, intently reading the options available. It occurred to you briefly that most of the time he was over here, the conversations were verbally pretty one-sided. But you were okay with that. 

After all, his eyes said infinitely more than he ever could. 

You supposed that with very verbal people, that might be a trait lost on them.

“What about that…” he began, then hesitated. You waited patiently, not hurrying him. Bucky had trouble remembering some things, and patience was all he needed from you in that regard. You’d never asked how, but you knew he was trying to work things out. Figure them out himself, Steve had mentioned in passing once. And the best thing you could do when that happened was support him by letting him do so. “... The… whip and the hat?” 

You thought for a moment-- no longer, you really only had so many movies to choose from-- before pulling out the three _Indiana Jones_ DVDs you possessed. “One of these, then?” you asked cheerfully. “Do we want the classic with the Ark of the Covenant, or the Indian deities, sacrifices, and harmful stereotypes, or the one with his dad and the Holy Grail?” 

“Ark,” he confirmed, and you nodded, separating that DVD from the other two and putting it neatly in the player. You could probably cough up enough to pay for a streaming service, but DVDs weren’t internet-dependent, and once you bought them, they were yours until they broke; not until they were taken off the site. 

You settled back in as the opening credits came on, reaching over the other arm of the couch (and by extension, over Bucky entirely) to reach the fuzzy blanket folded there, spreading it over the two of you. Bucky probably wasn’t cold, but that didn’t matter, because watching him not be cold when you actually _were_ cold made you feel even colder. 

He’d submitted to this treatment many times, and did so again when you tucked in the blanket around the two of you, making sure the glass of wine was accessible for you both. 

And it occurred to you again that just having company, even quiet company who didn’t really speak much, and a movie night with a half-decent bottle of wine absolutely counted as time well spent. 

Even on a couples’ day when everyone who had a partner was busy or otherwise occupied.

* * *

You weren’t quite sure exactly when you fell asleep. Keeping your eyes open had been a real struggle anyway when the movie started, and it got progressively more difficult. At best, you were only vaguely aware of too-cold fingers gently taking the near-empty wine glass from your hand some time later. A soft mumble was your only response, and you turned your face a little further into the delightful warmth behind your head, squirming until your shoulder was covered by the blanket again. 

Later you would realize what you felt was a pair of lips ghosting across your hair-- right now it didn’t feel like enough of something to be worth responding to. You weren’t aware of when the movie ended and the TV was turned off, or of when you were gently lowered to be horizontal on the couch with the blanket tucked in around you. The next thing that you were sure you were aware of was waking up to gray daylight streaming in through your windows, and a note on the coffee table in front of you. 

With a grunt, you oriented yourself so you were semi-upright and pushed your hair out of your face, plucking the note from the table and willing your eyes and brain to make sense of the words. It was hard when you first woke up. 

_  
Hey._

_I left to get us breakfast._ __  
_Wait for me._  
_I’ll be back soon._

 _Bucky_

Breakfast? Well. That was kind of him. You yawned, sitting the rest of the way upright and shivering as the blanket fell from around your shoulders. It had been very securely tucked around you, and _very_ warm. Right now your apartment was a bit too cool. 

Oh well. It meant you saved on heating bills. 

In the meantime, you would make coffee for when he came back. That was the only way to start the morning off _right_ in your opinion. (Tea would work in a pinch, but nothing really worked like coffee.) Bucky had been over often enough-- and crashed on your couch often enough-- that you knew very well how he took his coffee. How he tolerated black coffee was a bit of a mystery to you. With absolutely nothing to cut the bitterness, it always made you pull a face when you tried it. 

But Bucky liked it that way, so you made it that way. 

You’d just doctored your own mug when you heard your apartment door open and close, and a soft hum after that. It wasn’t one of Bucky’s acknowledgment hums. It was the same kind of hum he used to alert someone to his presence, kind of like how he intentionally moved his feet differently so you heard him walking when he was coming up behind you. 

You didn’t know if he did it for other people, but you knew he did that for you. 

And you hummed back, a happier-sounding hum (because sometimes, words weren’t really necessary) and moved with your mug and his mug of coffee over to the counter island, where he was just setting a small paper bag down with care. 

Your curious look didn’t go unnoticed, because you saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards before he reached in, withdrawing a pair of croissants, a muffin, and a danish that was leaking a little delicious-looking red syrup. In short order you had a pair of small plates slid over next to the bag, and the four breakfast items were divided between you (although you did cut the chocolate-filled croissant in half to split with him because you refused to eat the whole thing yourself). 

The really great thing was that the two of you were able to take your time with breakfast, without rushing your coffee, and with minimal talking necessary. Also with a giant fluffy blanket still hung around your shoulders, but that was a minor point, if appreciated. And it felt _wonderful_ basking in someone else’s company without feeling the pressure to keep a running conversation going. That melancholy depression from the night before was a fading memory at best, because you had something positive and _genuine_ to replace it with. 

Maybe replacing your memories wasn’t a great way to deal with things, but it was working, and you were okay with that. And when it led to moments like this, with you and Bucky both sitting at the kitchen island counter with your hands wrapped around mugs of coffee and crumbs or a smear of chocolate all that was left of breakfast… you couldn’t really _mind_ it. If that method also led to calloused fingers gently wrapping around yours over the counter, you couldn’t really mind that either, not even if you _wanted_ to. 

And you thought that maybe, from now on, Valentine’s Day might not bother you quite so much again.

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty, I kind of resent Valentine's Day because of all the expectations for everyone. It is totally okay to be single on Valentine's Day. But this fic is sweet and what I would want to read around this holiday, so here we are.
> 
> Also it was late when I thought of the title and it may change in the future. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
